


miscanthus

by celestialmuse



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Arranged Marriage, Enemies to Lovers, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-15 09:14:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28810938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celestialmuse/pseuds/celestialmuse
Summary: When Miya Atsumu meets Sakusa Kiyoomi for the first time, it seems that they are made of fire and ice. Opposites that will inevitably lead to destruction when they clash.Too bad they are arranged to get married to each other, whether they like it or not.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu & Miya Osamu, Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 5
Kudos: 44





	miscanthus

Atsumu should have known shit was going to hit the fan at some point. His life had been smooth sailing until now. Too smooth. The universe was conspiring against him and he finally had to pay the price for the privileged life he had lived until now. 

He focused on counting sheep in his head while mindlessly adjusting and readjusting his cufflinks until Osamu slapped his wrists, perhaps a little harder than necessary. 

“Can ya stop fiddling, for fuck’s sake?” Osamu asked, exasperated. “And fucking tone down your pheromones, Jesus. I’m suffocating in here.”

Atsumu sighed and sunk further into the plush leather of the seat. “Yeah, alright,” he muttered. “Sorry,” he added as an afterthought. Osamu had been trying his best to calm Atsumu down and had given him a full-on pep talk before they had departed. He had even volunteered to drive both of them to his future maybe-in-laws house sans chauffeur, just in case Atsumu wanted to have a private meltdown on the way. While he would love for Osamu to die courtesy of asphyxiation by his pheromones, Atsumu didn’t want to die in a car crash.

He heard Osamu sigh as he stepped on the gas and he guiltily watched his brother run his hands through his impeccably styled silver hair from the shotgun seat. Atsumu resisted the urge to reach out and immediately fix Osamu’s hair, lest he drives them both into the nearest pole. He focused on breathing instead, in for the count of four and out for the count of six, as his therapist had told him. He felt his stink receding slowly and being replaced by something salty and sweet—something calming, Samu’s doing. 

The drive to the Sakusas’ mansion was scenic, to say the least. Lush trees bordered the winding road and they could see the surrounding hilltops with every turn of the road. Even the weather today was great. Too bad Atsumu was drowning in existential pity and all-consuming rage to enjoy the drive. 

“Ma said their house is nice too,” Osamu said, breaking the heavy silence.

“I’m sure,” Atsumu replied with all the enthusiasm of a journalist reporting a natural disaster. 

‘“Tsumu, come on. You can’t mope forever,” Osamu said, frustration clouding his voice. Atsumu didn’t respond, opting to look out of the window and focusing on the rapidly passing blurred greenery. He imagined he would smell wet earth and pine if he stuck his head out of the window. 

Osamu eased the car onto a side road and vast iron gates stared at them, no guards in sight. The iron gates were intimidating enough without sentries, so perhaps they were superfluous. 

Instead of driving closer Osamu put the car in park and unlatched his seatbelt, turning in his seat to face Atsumu. His expression was too serene for all the grief Atsumu had given him over the past week which meant either Osamu was finally going to put a bullet through his head or inform him that he was dying of some terminal illness. 

“Atsumu,” Osamu started. “Remember your promise. I’m always here for you, but don’t forget what you promised me. You have to keep your end of the promise, or don’t expect me to deliver, okay?”

That brat. So no cancer? Today was not Atsumu’s lucky day. “Yeah, yeah, whatever ya say, Samu. Let’s get this over with already.”

He watched Osamu shake his head, something like pity or annoyance, or both, clouding his eyes. Whatever. He couldn’t care less about how Osamu felt about his situation right now. He wasn’t the one suffering. 

Their car approached the gate and Osamu half-yelled something into a little camera on the wall and the gates slid open slowly. Atsumu really wanted to sulk and maybe stamp his feet but morbid curiosity got the better of him. He rolled his window down and peeked into the seemingly vast garden. Flowers he couldn’t name tickled his nose with their pollen—wait, were they organized in a rainbow pattern?—and the neatly trimmed bushes bordered the emerald grass. Owning a private hospital came with big money and it really showed in the Sakusas’ property. Atsumu had to hastily pull his face back into the car as the spray of water from the sprinkler hit his nose. 

“Serves ya right,” Osamu mumbled as he eased the car into the guest parking spot, right next to their parents’ car. The car looked a lot shinier than it had when it left the Miya family home yesterday, so Atsumu guessed that it had been given a nice polish by some poor man who worked for the Sakusa’s household.

“Shut it, ya scrub,” Atsumu retorted, no bite to his tone. He took a quick inventory of himself before stepping out of the car—cuff links straight, collar neat, hair coiffed, and pheromones in check. 

Osamu patiently waited for him at the entrance, watching Atsumu amble up at a snail’s pace as if the weight of the world was shackled to his ankles. Their eyes briefly met—warm honey and steel gray—and Atsumu could literally hear Osamu say  _ Behave, I’ve got your back, and don’t embarrass ma and pa _ and Atsumu hoped his eyes conveyed  _ I know what to do, stop pestering me,  _ but also  _ will you save me? _ and he knew that Osamu had somehow understood what he wanted to say. 

Atsumu briefly nodded at Osamu, straightened his jacket and squared his shoulders before walking through the large mahogany door, Osamu following closely behind. He knew that his brother had his back, literally and figuratively, but this was a battle Atsumu was going to have to brave himself. 

A kind-looking butler greeted them inside and guided them down a seemingly endless hallway to the living area where, he was informed, his parents and the Sakusas’ were gathered for tea—and introductions, Atsumu assumed. At the end of the hallway another wooden door came into sight. Atsumu took several deep, steadying breaths as they approached the door.

Just before the butler opened the door, Osamu grabbed his sleeve and yanked him back with enough force for him to trip on his own feet. Atsumu stumbled and scowled at his brother as the butler watched with one hand on the doorknob, the kind smile never leaving his face, patiently waiting for the brothers to finish their antics.

“The fuck, Samu?” Atsumu hissed, straightening his sleeves and glaring at his brother. Osamu suddenly seemed a lot more nervous than he had when they left the car.

“Hey…” he started, eyes focusing on everything but Atsumu’s face. The air around them turned mildly sour. Atsumu knew his brother’s tells after nearly three decades of sharing his life with him and he wanted to slap the guilt off Osamu’s face. Guilt didn’t belong there. “Ya know, if—”

“If he’s ugly,” Atsumu interrupted him, “Then ya help me disappear. Got it? Kidnap me if you need to.”

Osamu finally looked at Atsumu’s face, a hesitant smile replacing his previous anxiety. “Ya have my word, Tsumu.”

Atsumu clamped a clammy hand over Osamu’s shoulder and gave him the most convincing, confident smile he could before turning to face the door. The butler—still smiling—nodded at them and finally pulled the massive doors open.

Sunlight hit Atsumu directly in the eye, blinding him for a second. He passingly wished he could be blinded forever, before banishing that thought and striding confidently into the room. He was Miya Atsumu after all. Nothing in the world was too much for him to take on.

Inside, his parents were sitting on some plush wooden sofas—the interior designer must have been some woodwork magician because they had managed to make the modern mansion look like some olden Disney castle with all the well-matched wooden pieces—and happily chatting up another couple. He assumed they must be Mr. & Mrs. Sakusa—who else would be so comfortable in their obscene house anyway?

Atsumu plastered a bright smile and strode towards the four of them. He heard the conversation come to a halt and watched four heads turn to face him. He caught his mother’s eyes, and she gave him a warm smile, nodding at him. His father looked as cheery as ever and bellowed his greeting at them. 

“Atsumu! Osamu! You finally made it here,” their father said, pulling them both into bone-crushing hugs, one after the other. 

“Yeah, Samu got us here in one piece miraculously,” Atsumu said, mentally hearing his brother’s retort, as he bent to kiss his mother on the cheek. 

“Welcome dear,” she said. “Let me introduce you. This is my son Atsumu. Atsumu this is Sakusa Masafumi and Sakusa Aiko, Kiyoomi’s parents.” Atsumu politely nodded at them and shook Masafumi’s hand noticing how different in age the couple looked. Masafumi looked well into his sixties whereas he would bet half his life savings that Aiko couldn’t be a day over fifty. Interesting. 

He extended his hand to Aiko only to be pulled into a warm hug. She smelled nice—rose and something citrusy. “Atsumu! Thank you for coming,” she said as she pulled away but held on to his shoulders, a beaming smile on her face. Atsumu took note of the beauty mark on the left side of her chin, just below full lips painted red. “You’re such a handsome boy, goodness me!”

“The pleasure is all mine, Mrs. Sakusa,” Atsumu replied, turning his charm up a notch. If he was going to suffer he might as well have fun doing it and flirting with his maybe-maybe-not-future-mother-in-law seemed like a good way to have fun. He was going to get burned either way, so who cares where the fire came from. “My looks can’t compare to yours. Are you sure you’re not Kiyoomi’s sister?” It was weird to finally utter his name. It felt foreign and bitter on his tongue. Atsumu had never really said it before now.

Aiko blushed, a pretty pink tingeing her cheeks and the smell of rose thickening just bit. “Gosh, thank you! I couldn’t possibly look that young,” she giggled into her fist, eyes shining. 

Before Atsumu could respond Masafumi put a gigantic hand on Aiko’s hip and nudged her closer to himself, the tiniest of frowns visible between his eyebrows, a hint of sharp lemongrass marring the rose. Sheesh, possessive much. Atsumu tried not to grin. 

“We are glad to have you here, Atsumu, Osamu,” Masafumi said, nodding at them in turn. “Please have a seat and enjoy some tea with us.”

Atsumu was more than happy to oblige since he hadn’t had much to eat all day, his stomach churning with nerves, but he hated delaying the inevitable question—the star of the show seemed to be glaringly missing and Atsumu didn’t want to come across as too keen by asking after him, but neither did he want to come off as too callous by completely ignoring his absence.

Too eager would probably be a better look on him than too callous so Atsumu bit the inside of his cheek and spoke. “Won’t Kiyoomi be joining us?” He saw Osamu shoot him a quizzical look out of the side of his eye but ignored it in favor of charming the adults. Osamu and his judginess could wait. 

“Oh, he is finalizing some emergency paperwork. He will be joining us anytime now,” Aiko replied, taking the seat nearest to Atsumu. Atsumu thought that seat might be reserved for the fabled ugly bride—or ugly husband in this case—but he couldn’t complain when Aiko took the seat instead. Perhaps his evening would go slightly better than he had expected. “I apologize for his rudeness, Atsumu,” she said sweetly, patting his hand. 

“It’s no problem at all, Mrs. Sakusa.”

“Please call me Aiko. You’re making me feel old with all the formality.” 

“If you insist, Aiko,” Atsumu said with a wink. He could swear that he heard a growl from where Masafumi was seated but the man had his eyes studiously fixed on his teacup. 

He and Osamu took turns making small talk around the table and their mother eventually got to regaling their childhood and started spilling their embarrassing childhood stories much to Atsumu’s and Osamu’s collective chagrin. He was pretty sure he mother was purposefully embarrassing them at this point. 

She was right in the middle of narrating how five-year-old Atsumu and Osamu had pooped themselves at the same time on their first day of pre-school when Kiyoomi appeared at the doorway. 

Atsumu felt him before he saw him. Something sweet but spicy tickled his nose—the smell oddly reminded him of spiced rum but there wasn’t a bottle at the table or Atsumu would have been on it already. 

Atsumu turned around and accidentally saw the tall, slender man standing at the doorway. Something sour immediately tarnished the sweet smell before it disappeared altogether. Atsumu furrowed his eyebrows reflexively before schooling his expression. Nice smells weren’t all that hard to come by after all. 

He watched Kiyoomi approach them with measured and confident strides. Something about him was almost regal—he was taller than Atsumu had ever seen from an omega and had a cool, standoffish air about him even from a distance. Atsumu couldn’t see his face but the way Kiyoomi carried himself made Atsumu want to bash his teacup against his head. Punch a wall maybe. This man was going to be trouble, Atsumu could already tell. 

The rest of the crowd seemed to notice the presence of their newest guest just as Kiyoomi came to stand in a strip of sunlight. Atsumu finally saw his eyes. Dark enough that he couldn’t tell where Kiyoomi’s pupils started but beautiful enough that Atsumu felt himself almost viscerally being dragged into the black hole that was Kiyoomi’s eyes. Yet his eyes were cold enough that not even sunlight reflected off them as he regarded Atsumu calculatingly. He suddenly felt as if he were a specimen under a microscope and he wanted to swat the side of Kiyoomi’s head for no reason. Breathe in. Breathe out.

“Ah, Kiyoomi!” Aiko chirped happily as she stood up from beside Atsumu and approached her son. “We’ve been waiting for you. Come, sit with us.” She directed Kiyoomi to the seat she had just been occupying much to Atsumu’s dismay.

Kiyoomi slid gracefully into the seat and draped his hands across his lap. He had nice hands. Long fingers, a couple of moles peppering his pale skin. Delicate. 

Atsumu really didn’t want to look at his face but some godly force made him fixate his eyes on the man next to him.

He… wasn’t ugly. His face was sharp; high cheekbones, defined jawline, straight nose, and thick eyebrows. Perhaps the only thing soft about his face were his lips—pale and full. He looked beautiful in a cold way. Like sunlight in winter, Atsumu mused. 

“I’m sorry for being late. I had some urgent work to take care of,” Kiyoomi said. His voice was deep. Silky even. Atsumu wanted to slap himself. Maybe break something.

“It’s not a problem at all. We know your work ethic is important to you, son,” Miya Kenji said, beaming at him. Kiyoomi nodded politely.

Wait a second—son? What the fuck? What did his father think he was saying?

Atsumu whipped his head around, ready to shoot laser beams with his eyes at his father when he accidentally made eye contact with Osamu instead. The fucker almost looked bored and had the audacity to lazily cock an eyebrow at Atsumu. Screw him. 

Aiko gasped as if suddenly remembering she hadn’t introduced her son to his potential future husband and in-laws, and hastily made introductions. Kiyoomi nodded at each name, acknowledging them in turn until Atsumu was finally introduced to him. He scanned Atsumu from head to toe, his eyes moving carefully over Atsumu’s figure, prodding him with his gaze alone as if he could deduce all of Atsumu’s secrets with his sheer willpower, before meeting his eyes again and simply looking away. That’s it. No reaction. 

Something vicious sparked in Atsumu’s chest. Had he really gone through the full spectrum of stomach-churning human emotions in one day with the anticipation of meeting this man who seemed to have the full emotional range of a teaspoon? It didn’t seem very fair to Atsumu. 

He wanted to see Kiyoomi broken. The proud and haughty man brought down to his knees, begging at Atsumu’s feet. 

The intrusive thought vanished as quickly as it came and Atsumu sucked his teeth. Breathe in. Breathe out.

“So,” Kiyoomi spoke again. “What was it about Atsumu soiling his pants again?”

A trill of laughter from his mother and Aiko was followed by the rest of the humiliating tale. Although Atsumu had been a wee baby when this happened he felt his face get steadily warmer and warmer as the tale came to an end. Regardless not exactly wanting this marriage, Atsumu really wanted a better introduction to his future spouse than an embarrassing childhood tale. He hoped it was at least funny.

Kiyoomi didn’t laugh. He slanted his gaze at Atsumu and smirked. “Interesting.”

The rest of the table seemed oblivious to the cold exchange going on between Atsumu and Kiyoomi.

So this was how their relationship was going to be. The ice prince was going to freeze him to death if Atsumu didn’t burn him first. This was war. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, if you made it this far. This is my first A/B/O fic and my first multi-chaptered fic as well. I'm hoping to update it every week but let's see how life goes. 
> 
> I have rated this as explicit from the get-go even though there is no explicit action for a few chapters just to be safe. There will be explicit content eventually.
> 
> You can find me on Twitter [@theobromaffeine](https://twitter.com/theobromaffeine) if you'd like some sneaky WIP updates or just want to hit me up.


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